Ashes To Ashes
by HelloMrsLovett
Summary: A Barnalia. Julia is besotten with him, but when will Barnabas realise where his heart really lies? Alternate points of view in each chapter, Julia/Barnabas. (I'm not good at summaries sorry!)
1. Unfortunate Effects of Laurent Perrier

_So I've been wanting to write a Barnalia for_ _absolutely ages_,_ because it's one of my favourites! Well, I think the chapters are going to alternate in the points of view of Barnabas and Julia. This chapter's Julia's. But I'm sure you already got that... um, please review! Oh and any suggestions/ideas are welcome as well! :) DISCLAIMER: I don't own Dark Shadows or any of its characters/settings, etc..._

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**Ashes To Ashes**

It's funny how just talking can wear you out.

Now, after a good hour of trying to console David after a particularly brutish nightmare, Julia is in desperate need of something to drink. Something strong. She whispers goodnight to the little boy tucked back up in bed, smiles, and silently slides through the door to make sure she doesn't set him off again. When she hears the latch click she breathes out a hearty sigh and tiptoes her way down to the wine cellar, so as not to wake anyone else. It's nearly one in the morning, after all. The cellar isn't a horribly long journey from David's room; just down one flight of creaky stairs and straight across the hallway, though she passes painting after painting of the Collins' ancestors, feeling goosebumps as she senses their disapproving eyes upon her. This has always been her least favourite part of the house.

As she quietly unlatches the door to the cellar at the end of the corridor, she peers in, eyes narrowed, to find no one other than Roger Collins standing in the middle of the room, sampling the delights of a half-empty bottle of apricot brandy. The very bottle Julia was planning to call her own. A little irritated, she walks in purposefully, and still it's a few seconds before Roger lifts his head to gaze up at her.

"Oh, evening Julia," he says, smiling strangely. Drunk. "What's on the list for today, then?"

Julia sighs inwardly and purses her lips. Roger is the only member of the Collins family she really cannot stand, and he isn't half aware of that fact, either. "Oh, nothing. I was just… Making sure the light wasn't on." She replies bluntly, giving him a meaningful look and turning to leave, planning to return in half an hour when nobody will be around.

"Yeah, right," she hears Roger mutter under his breath.

Hold on. She snaps back to face him. "And what's that supposed to mean?" she challenges, putting her hands on her hips and glaring down at the man in front of her.

He holds his hands up in mock defence. "Oh, sorry. I meant that it's not at all like a borderline alcoholic to just walk out of a room full of the stuff," Roger says matter-of-factly.

And Julia feels her cheeks burn. "I am _not_ an alcoholic!" she raises her voice.

"Borderline."

"Shut it, Roger. I am _not_!"

"Are too."

The argument is beginning to sound childish.

"Just because _you _are," she says spitefully.

No reply from him.

"And think about David!" She continues, gaining confidence. "There's no wonder he needs so much help, with you getting drunk in public and chatting up every woman who walks by! At least _I_ drink out of the public eye. You're disgusting, Roger. I honestly don't know how you can stand yourself." She finishes, and with that she walks pompously to a shelf, snatches a dusty bottle of some old champagne and leaves Roger exactly as she met him; holding a glass of apricot brandy and a gormless expression plastering his features.

Shutting the cellar door behind her, she hurries to her bedroom, so she can drink away in peace, with nobody watching. Including those unnerving painted eyes staring down at her.

When she reaches her bedroom door, she stops to think for a moment. Alcoholic? Of course not. She just gets thirsty.

Often.

Julia practically falls through the door, slamming the light switch on and immediately slumping down in the armchair, wasting no time in starting to fish through her drawers for a suitable glass. She finally has chance to examine the bottle she took so hastily. Wiping off the layer of dust, she sees its name - _1963 Laurent Perrier_. "_Not exactly brandy, but it'll do,_" she thinks. She unscrews the top, waits for the bubbles to dissolve into nothingness and tilts her glass a little to the right as she slowly pours a good quarter of the bottle's contents into it.

No sooner has she taken a well-deserved sip of the champagne that she hears a soft knock on her door, and she rolls her eyes. Wonderful. Who could that be at this hour? If it's Roger…

She grudgingly calls, "come in,"- but her irritation isn't necessary; for the person that enters through the huge cedar wood is, in fact, Barnabas Collins. The man she's not yet managed to take her eyes off. She stands from her seat in surprise.

"Barnabas," she utters involuntarily.

"Julia," he replies very meaningfully, in a tone she's never heard escape his lips before.

Julia's mouth is open, unable to say a word as he shuts the door gently and slowly makes his way towards her; examining her reactions carefully, seemingly making sure he isn't doing anything she may be frightened by. Although, she can't help but feel a _little_ wary – he is a vampire after all – and she reminds herself that he just wouldn't_ dream _of harming her. Not Julia. Besides, according to Elizabeth, he had already sworn not to harm anyone living within the grounds of Collinwood.

Before she has time to doubt this little detail for even a second, Barnabas has her hands in his; completely out of the blue, his arms are starting to wrap themselves around her small frame, and she finds that her own slender arms find his body in return. He mutters her name quietly and affectionately and, when she feels she can't be any more surprised by his actions, he kisses the soft spot beneath her ear, and she completely loses all ability to function. She can't breathe. Can't think properly. Can't feel her own legs.

How is _this_ happening? Barnabas never notices her. In fact, the only occasions upon which he really speaks to her are mainly requests for salt across the table (a decoy for the younger family members). Of course he doesn't want Julia… He loves Vicky, because he believes she's a reincarnation of Josette, or something. So this shouldn't be happening. And Julia is definitely not particularly fond of Vicky herself, but she does have a shred of dignity that she would very much like to retain – if she does this to Vicky, what will the family think?

But then, maybe they don't have to find out.

After a little while of internal debating, Julia simply gives in and lets Barnabas take her for himself. This _is_ what she has desired ever since he set foot in Collinwood over a month earlier.

And he nuzzles her cheek; she breathes in his unique scent graciously, and lets out a soft moan as he nips her neck with his sharp teeth. He feels warm beneath her deprived skin, and she notices with no difficulty how he takes care to explore every part of it he can with his tender hands, not to mention his repeated whisperings of her name, turning something she hates so much into something beautiful.

She starts to murmur his as well, but he stops her suddenly by placing his lips on hers so overpoweringly, so strongly that her knees buckle for a second time, and he appears to use this as a chance to lower her onto the waiting bed. His mouth never leaving hers, Julia feels his arms leave her momentarily; but before she knows it his shirt has hit the carpet and they're back again. She tries to unfasten her own dress, wanting him to take complete control over her. That's how she prefers matters such as these.

He unbuttons her dress with ease, and in no time the flowery mess she had been wearing joins the white shirt on the floor. She is wearing nothing but thin black lace, and she sees that somehow Barnabas is already wearing nothing but his own underwear too. She's still kissing him, her tongue finding his with no problem and caressing his cool lip line without hesitation. His hands lower themselves to her breasts, and with that he turns her whole body over so that she's resting on top of him; and to her own surprise, she pulls her head away to utter quietly, "I love you, Barnabas."

And love him she does.

* * *

"Julia,"

She wakes from her deep sleep with a start, and her eyes flutter open to find herself sprawled out on the living room sofa with an empty wine glass and yesterday's newspaper slipping from her hand. Who said her name? There's nobody in front of her. Julia has _never_ been one for mornings, especially after a good drink. Putting a hand to her face, she groans almost inaudibly and closes her eyes again. What time is it? Surely she hasn't been asleep for that long. Only feels like an hour... Or two, perhaps. Well, no more than six, at least.

Again, she reluctantly opens an eye just a fraction, and sweeps her gaze across the room; spotting two thin shafts of sunlight breaking through the gaps in the curtains, and looking back again to see that she is still clad in her floral summer dress from the day before. The television is quietly playing a re-run of last night's Top Of The Pops, and Julia blinks for a second; trying to force the large room into focus, all the while irritated at her return to the disappointment that is the real world. As well as a _very_ familiar headache. She turns herself over onto her back, wondering who had been so unkind in pulling her away from that simply wonderful dream about–

"Oh - Barnabas," she replies in uneasy surprise, jumping a little when she sees his pale face peering over hers. She shifts herself into a sitting position; placing her newspaper and wine glass on the carpet, giving a dirty look to the empty champagne bottle and, as usual, mentally vowing never to drink again. She clears her throat. "I, uh… did you… need me? …Or anything?" She's still feeling a little groggy, but has no trouble noticing how his face appears even more striking in this light; with the shadows accentuating his already angular cheekbones and his dark eyes reflecting the few beams of sunlight in the room.

And she needed to stop doing this.

Her sleepy awkwardness apparently overlooked, the subject of her previous dream opens his mouth to speak. "My utmost apologies for… awakening you," he says quietly, looking worryingly like he knew something she didn't.

"Oh, don't worry," Julia replies quickly, remembering her watch for the first time. 10:34am. "It's about time I got up anyway," she sighs huffily, staring at the brown carpet.

"Ah," Barnabas sounds a little more satisfied. "Alas, Julia, I merely interrupted your dreaming with a desire to inform you that I shall not be requiring your services this afternoon."

Oh. Julia feels her face fall, and quickly attempts to replace it with a bright smile so as to try and hide her disappointment. "Oh… Okay then."

Barnabas nods contentedly and throws her a grateful smile before turning to leave the room, though Julia won't let him go that simply.

"Barnabas?" she calls, standing up and taking a step towards him, grabbing the side of the sofa while her head is busy spinning from rising too quickly.

He swivels on his heel and looks at her expectantly.

"Why?" she dares to ask.

"I have previously arranged a meeting with young Victoria."

Of course. Who else? The whole family knows he's after her; sickly-sweet and innocent little Vicky (who can't possibly be old enough for someone over 21, let alone a 200 year old man).

Yeah, right. Julia can tell a person purely by glancing at their face, and without a doubt, Vicky certainly has something she isn't speaking of, which can never be good - so she tries to put Barnabas off the Josette lookalike, and believe me when I say it isn't for the first time either.

"Uh… but Barnabas, I have all the equipment out ready for you!" she says.

Nevertheless, he is quick and smooth as ever. "Well then, you'll have one job fewer to complete for tomorrow's treatment."

That didn't work. And his silky tone is a bit off-putting. Kissing her teeth and fiddling with her own hands, she looks around the dark room for something else that might make him stay. Her eyes soon come into focus on the paper thin beams of light, and she moves over to the window and tries again, a tiny hint of distress tainting her morning-thick voice. "It's so sunny outside, Barnabas! You can't go out!" Julia dramatically throws back the curtains to no avail; the old draughty windows reveal dense cloud and grey sky stretching to far beyond the distant horizon. How convenient. She frowns right into the face of Collinsport Harbour.

Barnabas smiles impishly, almost as if he knows exactly what Julia is attempting to do. "It looks like perfectly wonderful weather to me. Though I greatly appreciate your…" he gave her a searching but otherwise unfathomable look. "_Concern_… I shall perhaps see you later on, Julia," he inclines his head a little towards her marking his departure, and she confusedly finds herself doing the same. She sighs.

"All right, you win. But be careful, OK? And do _not_ get seen," she gives up, smiling, and lets him leave for his date. Although, she'd still love to see how delicate little Vicky would react to his bloodthirsty nature.

* * *

Julia walks through the ancient hallways of Collinwood to her beloved office, failing to stifle a particularly loud yawn. She has abandoned her little grudge against Vicky in favour of soothing her pounding head - she needs aspirin, and she needs it soon.

She pushes through the door at the end of the hallway to the beautiful comfort of her own workplace, and slumps down in the swivelling chair with a sigh. Reaching for the tablet container on the side, she files irritably through countless boxes of Penicillin, Paracetamol and Omega 3 capsules until she eventually finds and snatches the last packet of aspirin from its rather inconvenient position at the very bottom of the tub. Pressing two fingers to her aching temple, she pops two tablets in her mouth and swallows them without water.

A few minutes later, she can think again.

Looking round, she realises that she probably needs to redecorate a little. Her office is not much different to that of a hospital ward; with the pristine white bed in the corner and the tubes and wires, and all her medical tools safely stored away in the drawers. There's a plain beige lightshade upon the patterned ceiling which is a bit basic and boring (though provides extremely bright light to even the darkest corners) - and even the little television in the corner is a bit dated.

Despite all this, her workplace makes her feel truly happy, knowing that she can do whatever she wants without anyone watching. She enjoys the freedom; the freedom one so rarely gets when living with seven other people - just walking into the room seems to lift the weight of the world off her shoulders, and she can do absolutely anything without anyone asking awkward questions. After all, a psychiatrist typically has her own mind problems to deal with.

She rises again; crossing the room to turn on the television, but gasps as she catches sight of herself in the tall mirror, and watches herself almost tear up at her own reflection.

Why must she look like this? She raises a hand to touch her flaming red hair, so overpowering beside her pallid skin; the need to wear so much make up only enhanced further by the current lack of it; and she hasn't a particularly 'sexy' figure. _There really is no point in trying to catch Barnabas's attention_. She's now at an age she'd rather not mention to even herself, and her already almost non-existent looks are, it seems, decreasing rapidly. Perhaps she drinks so much because it brings her away from the horrible truth? The horrible truth constantly reminding her that she _will_ grow old, that she'll never find someone to love her as Barnabas loves Vicky. That dream had only confirmed it. It pains her to think that she will most certainly die alone.

_And it pains her to think that he loves Vicky._

What Julia needs is to be like _him_. To be unconditionally beautiful - to possess the gift of eternal youth she so desperately desires. Never to die. That would sort out a few of her appearance problems.

She pulls her eyes away from the sorry sight in the mirror, and gazes dazedly around the room, desperately searching for something other than her body to focus on.

And that's when she sees it.

_His blood_.

It's fresh, still sitting uselessly in plastic packets, and the idea hits Julia like a bullet to the chest. She feels her eyes widen at the mere thought.

A blood transfusion.

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**_So that's chapter 1... please review and be honest and please tell me if anything needs checking too! :)_**


	2. Time Stops

_Hello, I'm so sorry this has taken so long! I've been so caught up with GCSEs and controlled assessments, I've barely had any time at all to write, or do any other thing for that matter. Ugh, school :( Anyway, I'm not actually that keen on this chapter, I don't know why... I think I feel like I'm rambling too much when nothing much happens. But still, let me know what you think and also please tell me how it could be improved!_

_And I just want to add thank you so much for your lovely reviews, they keep me posting, and again I'm more than open to suggestions and ideas because... I'm not so great at thinking up plots :3 =^-^=_

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**Time Stops**

Oh, Julia doesn't half amuse him. Barnabas smiles to himself as he remembers her muffled speaking through her slumber - she had uttered his name far too many times to count, and he's not sure he'll ever forget the delightful way she hugs her knees protectively. Though fancy being sound asleep as late as half past ten in the morning! The twentieth century is to forever remain a mystery to Barnabas, with its odd customs just so… well, plain curious.

And Barnabas does what he's been doing ever more frequently and thinks. He thinks about the world. About himself.

He thinks, walking alone towards the steep cliff pathway, that he has come to enjoy Julia's company very much – at least, most of the time. It may sound a little insensitive to say so, perhaps; but he very much prefers it when she is 'hung over' as they say nowadays – she becomes a dreamy, almost other-worldly and secretive woman, someone holding back a _lot_ of words that she could say, but doesn't; because she knows nobody else really much cares anymore. And he has long since noticed how she'll never snap at him while the rest of the family get burning hell served to them on a golden plate. She just becomes so different to her usual half-drunk self, the careless Julia who speaks her thoughts happily without a second consideration to the consequences. It's the one side to her that not many have the fortune to see – the genuine, sensitive and incidentally, rather _likeable_ person who, for some reason, she hides away behind the mask of drink she favours so much.

Still, as Angelique used to say, 'c'est la vie'.  
_Angelique_.

Barnabas rolls his eyes and sighs tiredly. Typical. Just when he thought he'd got rid of her, she just so happens to have her very own thriving company that's subsequently throwing his previously respectable business to the dogs. How he had come so close to loving the witch before, Barnabas will never understand – although, even a gentleman such as he simply had to admit, she_ was_ rather attractive.

Nevertheless, he makes a mental note to ask Julia about _herself_ the next time he sees her, rather than focusing on himself, and continues to stroll down the winding cliff road to the beach where Victoria should be waiting for him.

It's just the same as he remembers it; two hundred years hasn't in the slightest affected the 90 feet of crumbling rock beneath Widow's Hill, layered with tinges of deep oranges, reds, greenish-greys and blacks, and ending in the same cluster of huge rocks that the sea continuously batters day and night, making it a particularly treacherous area to be within for any period of time. Today, there's no fog; and the sand dunes are visible from the top, the tall spiny grass swaying bleakly in the wind. And looking more to the horizon, Barnabas notices that, though there used to be all sorts of sea birds flying in and out of this part of the shore, right now there's nothing but a couple of gulls picking lazily at some unfortunate crab in the shallows. Strange.

It was, admittedly, no longer the most picturesque place one could take their dear for a day – but Barnabas has had so many happy memories here that this beach immediately sprang to mind. Josette used to adore it.

The walk down to the beach is easy as it used to be and somewhat shorter, and the only minor setback is a brief moment when Barnabas's hat blows off, and a young boy notices his head smoking a bit and watches him disbelievingly, mouth agape. (Though of course, Barnabas has always been one for grace; he catches the escaping hat with a mere flick of the wrist, places it back atop his short hair and walks on proudly.)

So he sits in the sheltered part of the bottom of a large dune, and he waits. And he waits…

And he waits a little longer.

After ten minutes he pulls from a fold in his coat a copy of Erich Segal's _Love Story_ and reads a chapter.

"_True love comes quietly, without banners or flashing lights. If you hear bells, get your ears checked."_

Love. Barnabas tries to remember what it feels like to truly love.

After a short while pondering over that single sentence, he drops the book and checks his gold pocket watch. Almost twenty-five past eleven. But how does this watch even work at all after so long?

There's a moment of attempting to tear his eyes away from the tiny ticking clock hands, before Barnabas realises Victoria is over half an hour late. He stands reluctantly, his stick sinking in this thin sand, and begins to seriously question the whereabouts of her. Wherever can she be? It really isn't like her to be so unpunctual.

Suppose something dreadful has happened to her?

_No._

He rolls his eyes at his own thoughts. It's so like him to jump to the worst possible scenario first (though, given what he's been through, it isn't completely inacceptable). However, Barnabas's anxiety is still beginning to show - he catches himself twiddling his thumbs, biting his lower lip and shuffling around on the spot restlessly, looking for any signs of her.

Perhaps she has been hurt somehow, though? A road accident?!

Then again, she doesn't have a carriage… _Car_. He must get used to the twentieth century soon! And more to the point, she is possibly the most careful and sensible person he knows. Which leaves only one more painful thought. She can't have…deserted him, can she? Left Collinsport completely without saying goodbye? No – she wouldn't. It's completely out of the question. At least, he hopes so… Or else he'll never again have the chance to call Josette his own.

_Victoria._

_ Not_ Josette_. _Josette is gone. She's dead, and he needs to let her memory go. She isn't coming back. _Close your mind, Barnabas - you're much better than this!_ He loves Victoria for who she is! Because… Because she's intelligent, witty, beautiful and thoughtful, and definitely _not _just because she looks like his former lover. Victoria is wonderful, and he loves her for _her_. He thinks.

_Oh no._

"Barnabas!" calls a distant voice, tearing him from his frantic desperation to know the truth behind his mixed emotions. He turns like a bolt.

"Josette," he breathes involuntarily, as she stumbles closer to him, grinning like a child who has just been given a triple-scoop chocolate ice cream. He's completely blown away every time he sees her.

She slows a little, seeming a bit confused. "I'm sorry - what?"

Barnabas feels his eyes widen; he realizes with a start at what he'd just said, and makes some attempt to amend it immediately. Perhaps he should seek psychological treatment from Julia as well as his regular blood transfusions. That would probably stop these accidental bursts of speech.

"I said, 'we're all set'," he says quickly, feeling himself blush (and noticeably too, within his pale complexion). He clears his throat and changes the subject. "You're a tad late, if you will forgive my pointing out."

Victoria's cheerful facial expression turns to something of slight embarrassment, and she looks down at her feet. "I know. Sorry about that, Barnabas – but David and I were just helping out, you know? Drawing up a couple of new designs for the company ad…" She looks up at him. "You've been so good with getting them all started again, you know. They're really getting into things! Oh, and Roger told me how…"

Barnabas isn't extremely interested in Roger or her personal life at this precise moment: all he wants to do is think things through. Preferably, alone.

He looks down at the sand beneath his once again moving feet. It's plastered with litter – cigarettes, food tins, plastic, old shoes and general bits and pieces nobody else wants; must have washed in from the tide. Dear Lord, they really have let this place fall to ruin.

And he still isn't listening to Victoria's ramblings - perhaps he is being unnecessarily impolite? Though now he has begun to doubt what he feels towards her a fraction, and he cannot stop thinking about this entire Josette situation whenever he looks at her. In fact, as they both walk together along the elevating waterline, he suddenly feels an urge to speak to Julia. She's probably the only one who might be able to help him out. Hypnotism, perhaps. Frustratingly, he hasn't yet managed to perform it upon his own mind.

He glances sideways to watch Victoria's lips moving from the corner of his eye, but his thoughts are debating with each other so noisily that her aimless one-way conversation is passing through the atmosphere completely and utterly unnoticed.

_She's yours._

_Perhaps she could be, but do you really want her?_

_ Victoria is completely different to Josette, and you like variety, correct?_

Moreover, in order to appear a little more respectful, Barnabas eventually puts in an attempt to abandon his distracting thoughts and does occasionally throw in a 'yes' or a 'no' to Victoria when he feels relevant, and supplies, at the very most, a three or four word answer to several unimportant questions when absolutely necessary. The act doesn't last too long, though.

"Barnabas, are you even hearing me?" Victoria asks exasperatedly.

"Mm? Oh, yes! Sounds lovely, Victoria. Excellent idea," he replies blandly, fiddling with an empty snail shell he'd just found.

"Oh, that does it, Barnabas," she stops, beginning to sound increasingly more irritated. Barnabas remembers how Josette used to behave when she became annoyed with someone or something. She would simply stop speaking completely, not letting a word out to _anyone_; sometimes even for hours on end. It drove Barnabas insane.

_But Victoria is not Josette._

He decides to play the innocent card. Perhaps she'll just drop it? "I'm sorry?" he says in a higher-than-usual tone.

Victoria opens her mouth and makes some strange squeaky noise before closing it again and rolling her eyes. "Never mind. It doesn't matter," she mutters, shaking her head.

Barnabas nods conclusively, and after a minute or so of silent walking, he tries to get the conversation going again. He must at least be civil.

"…So, how are you, Victoria?" he asks.

Victoria looks up at him in mock surprise for a second before answering. "Well, everything's fine. A little different, I guess, but I suppose I'll get used to it."

Barnabas stops her and looks into her eyes affectionately. He sees something else there. Something hidden. "No." he presses softly. "I meant, how are _you_."

Victoria's eyes seem to turn a little misty, and he gives her a reassuring smile.

"I'm okay," she says, her tone careful, until she spots Barnabas's (slightly exaggerated) disappointed expression and looks downwards a little before continuing. "It's always okay in the daytime."

"You look tired," says Barnabas.

"I am. I don't always sleep well."

"Why, if you'll forgive my asking?"

Victoria seems hesitant to speak. She opens and closes her mouth again a couple of times, and moistens her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. "I… You'll think I'm childish."

Barnabas slowly lifts and presses her small hand to his lips and kisses it softly. "I think you're wonderful in every possible way."

This seems to give Victoria a bit of confidence, and she smiles at him whole-heartedly with emotion he's never seen before. "I… I see things."

"What things?"

"I don't really think I want to say. But I have terrible nightmares, you can't possibly imagine."

One thing Victoria doesn't know is how long Barnabas has spent in that lurid coffin, but he isn't about to tell her that. It still pains him that he can't let her know that he really does understand _exactly _what she means. He wonders what makes her feel this way, and it's this question in mind that makes him feel an empowering desire to be there beside her day and night; for _her_ to be fully content in confiding in_ him_, and him alone.

He keeps quiet, but then says: "For you, Madam; I would suffer your despair in your place, if only I could."

Victoria turns away and lets out a tiny, barely audible gasp. She turns back to him again, speaking quietly. "You really do mean that, don't you?" It's more of a statement than a question.

Barnabas gives her a smile and a slow, meaningful nod.

And unexpectedly, for the first time ever, she moves closer into him.

_She couldn't want to... Could she?_

Barnabas steadily prepares himself for what he has surely waited for since his arrival, and takes this wonderful chance to absorb absolutely everything he loves about her - the sweet scent of her hair; her naturally curly eyelashes; those truly perfect and faultless lips. There are tiny flecks of blue in those mystic grey irises, and he can't help but lose himself in them completely.

Time stops, as Victoria looks right into the dark shadows of his eyes. She lifts her head to his, little by little, and he lowers his to hers; they're almost close enough now. He takes hold of her hands, and moves his thumbs in slow, circular motions around her soft palms. They both close their eyes - just one more millimetre…

But completely out of the blue, a surge of freezing water plasters their shins. It's awful, dragging them apart from what could have been something rather exceptional, and they both give out loud yelps of surprise as they realise how high the tide has been getting. Barnabas looks down at his legs – they're knee-deep in murky sea water, and he throws out a look of revulsion to nobody in particular. Victoria swiftly presses herself to his body, seeking protection from disgusting looking seaweed that could be concealing just about anything; and within a second he has her in his arms, darting back to somewhere dry. Back on the sand, he doesn't notice he still has hold of Victoria's body - he's too busy inspecting his near-antique trousers - and she has to tap him on the shoulder for a few seconds.

"You can put me down now, Barnabas."

"…What? Oh, of course! Forgive me," he says awkwardly, before lowering her to the sand gently, where she brushes herself down a little before looking up at him once again. He looks back, and clears his throat. Victoria does the same. Silence.

"I, um… should be getting back," she says after a while, her right hand moving down from her left shoulder. "And... thanks for today."

"Oh. Okay," Barnabas replies disappointedly.

Victoria nods a little, backs up and starts to walk away. Barnabas watches her move back all along the beach until she becomes ant-like - a tiny figure in the distance, a perhaps insignificant being to the world; but certainly not at all to him. And it's at this precise moment that Barnabas realises he really does remember what love feels like.


	3. False Hope

**Hope**

Sticking needles into your arms is never a nice experience. Julia winces as she pulls the thin metal tubes from her skin, leaving spots of ugly blue-ish bruises in their places. She flexes her arms to try and regain feeling in them before suddenly remembering to check herself in the mirror once more, wondering whether she can see any changes already – but of course, there's nothing. Watching her own face fall, she sits back down again, hands resting on her knees for support.

She mustn't let this bring her down. It's only the first transfusion, after all, and she's smart enough to know logic from hope! Perhaps another week. Just one more week, then she'll be beautiful again, like she once was. She'll be beautiful again, like him.

But he can't know.

* * *

This whole concept seems to have changed Julia for the better, knowing that she might finally be able to sort her body out after all this time. In fact, she doesn't even feel the urge to pour herself her daily glass of gin and tonic, and she makes her way to the living room, actually feeling a little pleased with herself for once.

Falling into the sofa with a content sigh, she hitches her legs up comfortably and flicks on the little television to gladly find Charlie Bucket and Grandpa Joe burping themselves down a pipe full of bubbles. She's had a secret love for this children's film ever since it came out last year, and she smiles. Today can't possibly get any better, can it?

It's just at the part where Verruca Salt disappears down the 'bad egg' chute when Julia hears a faint click of the doorknob behind her. She can't manage to tear her eyes away from the screen, however she doesn't have long to wait before she finds out who it is – to her disappointment, Vicky moves around the sofa, blocking Julia's view of the film, and she looks down at her cheerfully. Julia sighs and looks into Vicky's bright eyes expectantly, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow. She is so irritating! If only the others could know what she's really like, and what she's like alone with _her_ in particular. Julia can practically feel the vibes of excitement emanating from Vicky's body, and so continues to stare up at her bluntly.

"...Wow!" Vicky says happily.

"'Wow' what?"

Vicky sighs animatedly and rolls her eyes. "Well, what a day!" she flicks off the TV before lifting Julia's feet from the seat and positioning her own body there in replace. "You'll never believe what happened!" she looks downwards. "Well, I should say, what _almost_ happened…" she twists herself round to face Julia, who rolls her eyes, out of sight. She can't ignore her now. Turning back, she smiles falsely at Vicky, opening her eyes wide and forcing her mouth to form sarcastic words that she wouldn't usually even bother speaking.

"Oh, Vicky, you simply _must_ tell me more," she says, dropping her uninterested gaze to the carpet.

Though Vicky takes this as genuine interest, despite the more-than-obvious tone, and continues unfazed. "Okay, well…" she smiles a suspiciously girly smile. "I met Barnabas down at Widow's beach today."

Julia freezes. She'd forgotten about that. "W-what did you do?" she clears her throat, desperately hoping Vicky didn't notice her shaky reaction.

"Uh… we went for a walk, and he was being all - all distant and broody. You know what I mean?"

She nods, feeling temporarily relieved. Anyone in their right mind would feel like that around this woman. Perhaps Julia _is_ wrong, and he doesn't like her so much after all?

"…Then I got annoyed and asked him why and he didn't really give a reason, so I just forgot about it. But _then _he asked me about myself. For like, the first time!"

"What did you tell him?"

Vicky's eyes travel around the room and she looks a little hesitant before answering, "Uh… just how I was doing… anyway, I told him and then, Julia, _then_… we almost – kissed!"

And what little hope Julia had of his not being interested in her has just been shattered.

She turns away momentarily, shutting her eyes. Still, she has a little strength to continue, "so… w-what stopped you?" she stammers.

"Just the sea," Vicky frowns for a second before the edges of her mouth lift a little. "He carried me all the way back to the sand, though. Never seen anyone move so quickly."

"Hm. And how do _you_ feel about him?"

"Uh… I don't really know…" She's gone girly again. "He's strangely -" Vicky breaks off and shakes her head. "I guess I kinda liked it."

_That is it_.

Julia drops her polite mask completely, full to bursting point with sheer malice, and she snaps round to face her fully. "_All _the way to dry land? You can't possibly be serious! Oh – tell me, did he _sweep_ you off your feet? Are you utterly and madly in _love_ with him? Did he, I don't know, take you to the _moon_ and back? Are you – "

"Why do you care?" Vicky interrupts, narrowing her big eyes at Julia's sudden change in attitude.

"I don't." She replies quickly, directing her gaze to the floor.

"Yes you do. I _know_ you do," she points her finger in Julia's face, "I can see it."

The atmosphere in the room has gone from composed to vicious within a matter of seconds, and Julia can't take it anymore; she stands up, her voice rising with her. "_You_ have completely got the wrong idea," she laughs almost hysterically. "If you think _I_ love him or something, I'm afraid you're awfully mistaken. Go ahead! Do whatever the hell you want, see if I care about you both—" she stops abruptly, horrified at herself. That one word has just given it all away – Vicky too stands up slowly, a knowing, smug grin gracing her features.

_Damn it._

"Wow, Julia," Victoria says, pacing up to her, voice quiet and dangerous. "I never thought you of all people could even have the… _capacity_ to love_._"

"_How dare you_." Julia gives Vicky a piercing look, a look very clearly telling her to retreat. Vicky finally looks a little intimidated by Julia standing over her small frame, and Julia wastes no time in herding her towards the door to try and get her out of sight as soon as possible.

Face to face in the doorway, they stare each other down silently, two pairs of hands clenched beside each body. Neither of them knows what to say, but they mustn't make a single movement – to do so would show obvious weakness, so it comes as a bit of a surprise when Vicky opens her mouth to speak in her signature sickly-sweet tone.

"I remember the first thing you said to me the day I arrived."

So does Julia. _You're a liar_, she thinks.

"And…_You_ think I'm a 'liar', but now _I_ know you have a… little _girl's_ love for Barnabas. Now _I_ know something about _you_. Think about that."

Vicky smiles almost angelically before she elegantly carries herself into another room, as if nothing has happened. The lock clicks audibly, and there Julia stands speechless for a moment.

Victoria Winters has found her weakness.

_She knows._

Nothing scares her more than other people knowing things about her, and an involuntary yelp escapes her lips, just too late to be stifled – she claps a hand to her mouth and quickly takes her chance to dart through the antique corridors into her office, slamming the door behind her. Seemingly unable to muster up the strength to even reach her chair, she can only crumple up in front of her door, head in hands, elbows on knees.

She's always had an irritating tendency to show her weak spots, and she hates herself for this. Tears start to form in her eyes and she has to focus on the bright light for a long while until they eventually disappear again.

She shouldn't be reacting this way to Vicky. Not _Vicky_ – she's _far_ stronger than this! _Stop, Julia. Just stop._

Maybe she needs some air.

Rubbing her forehead, Julia picks herself up off the floor grudgingly to change into something to go out in. She crosses the room to her little cabinet, expecting to find a pair of brown lace up heels, and instead slides it open to find her favourite frumpy purple dress – she's been looking for that everywhere! Julia presses the creased folds of violet to her chest with glee, inhaling the musky scent gladly before imagining how silly she must look and smiling at herself sheepishly. Sighing a little, she quickly swaps dresses, finds her saddle shoes in another box and heads over to the mirror to apply her make up.

A few minutes later, when Julia is relatively pleased with how she looks, she picks up her bag from the counter and quietly makes her way through her door, locking it carefully behind her. She doesn't, of course, want to run into Victoria; so she hurries on her toes through the house, not stopping until she reaches the door to start checking she has just about everything she needs for an afternoon in town.

She's just rifling through her bag for her money when the doorknob turns, making her jump.

"Oh, hello Julia!" says Barnabas brightly when it opens.

"Barnabas!" she replies in surprise, her eyes darting to the room where Vicky is. "I... thought you were out?"

"Oh, not any more," he smiles warmly. "The weather is getting a fraction too fair for my liking." He flashes Julia a wink that makes her shiver.

"Yeah," she laughs, recovering herself quickly and looking up at the brightening sky. "Well, come inside then, you'll turn into a walking furnace any second!" She moves aside to let him in before the sun pierces its way through the clouds, still searching her bag for money.

Barnabas shuts the door behind him and takes off his outdoor clothing, hanging all of it from one of the wooden mermaids on the wall. Julia stops looking through her bag for the sake of watching him, and she wonders why he isn't being his usual old-fashioned and proper self. And just when she thinks she can't be any more confused by his casual manner, he asks her:

"So, how is my Julia?"

_My_ Julia?! She's wordless for a lot longer than just a moment. Since when is she _his_?

"I'm… uh… f-fine! And you?" she replies, squirming inside. Were things changing between them?!

_Don't get your hopes up, Julia. _Of course they're not. He's just excited from his day with Vicky.

…_But could they be?_

"I'm pleased to say I'm more than fine. I'm elated, at the very least!" he looks as if he is bursting to tell her something.

"Why?"

"I've had the most wonderful day!"

Of course.

"Oh, really?" says Julia tiredly. "Well. Afraid I'm going out now, Dracula. Can we talk about this later?"

He narrows his eyes at her new nickname for him. "Yes, of course we can. I will see you lat—"

"Vicky's in the front." She interrupts him, nodding her head to the room.

"Thank you, Julia."

Julia nods and sighs. She feels bad about putting him down like this, but she doesn't think she can handle _two_ recounts of his and Vicky's 'wonderful' time in one day. "Well, see you later…" she starts, before Vicky emerges into the hallway positively glowing. "Hey, I heard voi— oh, Barnabas!"

Barnabas turns from Julia to look at his love. "Victoria," he chuckles, "I hope you're at least half as happy as I am!"

Vicky runs up to him, casting Julia a haughty look as she and Barnabas stiffly embrace in the middle of the room. Julia rolls her eyes radically and makes a face.

_ I'm out of here._

She can't watch this all afternoon. She has things to do, and so she opens the door and leaves Collinwood without a second glance, heading down the path to the highway – but at the iron gates she stops, her fingers lingering on a rusting bar.

_What **has** she come out for?_

Surely not just 'air'.

She looks just beside her at the dark woods, the usual morning fog still not yet clear even in the afternoon; and she shivers a little without really knowing why. A horrible, cold sensation of someone watching sweeps over her; and for the first time since Barnabas, she feels very alone. Her head darts around a little, waiting for someone to emerge.

They don't.

A second chill threatens to engulf her, but, being Julia, she tries to shake it off, hopping briskly on, though recurrently looking behind her all the way.

Angelique Bouchard, blonde and beautiful as ever, dressed in a black tailored suit, steps out from behind a sycamore just as the flame of red hair disappears around the corner further down the road. A devilish smile creeps across her full red lips.

"That gets rid of one of 'em," she mutters, turning around towards Collinwood house.

Three knocks. Willie opens the door, his eyes widening at the sight of her.

"Uh... I…" he begins, before Angelique cuts him off, swiftly brushing by him into the hall.

She stands still for a second, planning her moves carefully before her eyes lock on the front room door, and she paces over calculatingly, fixing a smile upon her face. Opening the heavy door slowly, she finds Barnabas and Victoria sitting on the sofa reading _Love Story_, and the first album of The Carpenters plays faintly on the record player in the corner. Victoria stares up at her, in wonder of this stranger's idiosyncratic, mystic beauty, and so appears surprised when Barnabas narrows his dark eyes, dropping the book and standing up. His black eyes pierce into Angelique's brown ones, both threateningly and expectantly at the same time; challenging her, inviting her.

"I didn't realise you had company," Angelique speaks first. "A word, Barnabas?"

"Whatever you feel the need to say, you can say it in front of Victoria", he replies, though his face tells her that he regrets it within an instant.

Angelique smiles sweetly, and she makes something up – something that really makes Victoria tick. "Alright. I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed last night!"

Vicky looks up at her lover, confused. "Barnabas?" she asks.

He looks at Angelique disbelievingly. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about!" he raises his voice. "If you have entered this mansion purely to pollute the air with your vulgar lies, you will be leaving now, I expect!"

Angelique smirks at him. "Oh, _nobody_ speaks like that any more. I've said it once, I'll say it again."

Barnabas looks worried for a minute; Victoria obviously doesn't know the truth about him, then.

"If you would be so kind as to—" he begins quickly.

"I'm sorry, Barnabas. Have I let the cat out of the bag?" she lifts two fingers to her rouged lips.

Glaring at each other, Barnabas herds Angelique out of the room and into the hall without once breaking eye contact. Victoria follows like a sheep, hovering nervously in the doorway.

After a while, Angelique narrows her eyes, her tone becoming dangerous. "I see. Well I'd be careful, Barnabas. I think we _both_ know how this one's gonna end." She slowly looks over the painting of Josette on the wall, winks at Vicky, takes her coat and leaves without a word.

* * *

_There you go, but I'm not sure I like how it ended so much. Is it too rushed?_

_Let me know what you think, either way! I'm really just writing this as I go along, I'm even **worse** than awful at thinking up interesting plots..._

_What would you like to happen next?_

_Thank you for reading if you are and please review! x_

**_Okay I have the next chapter written now, but it won't be up for a bit as the internet has completely stopped working on my laptop (ugh). I've got a new one on the way, but just a heads up. It's going to live up to its rating in the next part ;) - 3/1/2013_**


	4. Delicate

**Delicate**

The sun has been unfalteringly bright since Saturday, and Barnabas is growing tired of being stuck in the house all the time. He's getting thirsty too; and needs to feed soon to avoid an accident – perhaps he should cease to avoid feeding so much? After all, people do die all the time…

…Innocent people…

And Victoria still hasn't spoken to him, even after three days.

Now one can't help adoring her and all, but three days of constantly apologizing and truthfully telling her that he had no idea whatsoever of what Angelique was going on about with the 'last night' business - it simply doesn't seem to be enough for her. In all honesty, it's been near infuriating. He can't exactly casually drop into a conversation the fact that she's a _witch_ – more so, a witch who has had it in for him ever since he'd failed to declare his non-existent love for her two centuries ago. Curse this curse! All he's done for the past few days is mope around the house feeling sorry for himself.

Perhaps he needs a break.

He leans back in his seat at the coffee table in the lounge, puts down his new book (he's trying out The Hound Of The Baskervilles) and breathes out a long sigh, eyes travelling jadedly around the room. There isn't much to do without anyone to talk to, and by now he's reduced to tracing small circles on the table with a thin finger while his head droops lower and lower in the other hand.

Rubbing his burning throat and checking the gold pocket watch, Barnabas purses his lips – it's almost three, and his first treatment session isn't until four o'clock. Even so, he feels as though he needs company soon if he wants to avoid exploding – so he pulls himself up out of the chair and heads up to Julia's office.

He stops outside her door, listening in for a second. There's some sort of song about a 'life on mars' playing; and putting his ear closer he can hear Julia singing along pretty badly, holding in what would have been a very loud snort, covering his mouth with his hand.

"Eye on someone else now, I see," a voice resounds behind him.

"Wha- Victoria!" He snaps his head around and immediately feels his cheeks burn. Oh, Lord. Of course she has caught Barnabas in the most unorthodox position – grinning widely with an ear pressed right to Julia's door. He looks at the disgusted Victoria hopelessly. "It isn't what it—"

"Really. Funny, that's exactly what my parents said to me before they threw me into—" she stops, checking herself.

"The what?"

"Why do you care?"

"You know why," he replies softly.

She looks up at him. "Say it, then," she sounds less vicious, her wide eyes blinking at him expectantly.

Barnabas is stuck for a second, not wanting her to feel in any way offended by telling her his irrevocable feelings for her. He opens his mouth to speak after a very long while - but by the time he does, her eyes have grown menacingly dark again. What did he do?

"Fine. If that's how it's going to be." She says. He gets an extremely unpleasant feeling in his gut as a sudden flashback to his last mortal night spent with Angelique ripples over him in a wave of regret.

He shudders and averts his gaze to the floor, unable to speak and rather embarrassed. Neither of them says a word, and when Julia's office door opens suddenly, the two pairs of eyes in the hallway snap up a little too gratefully, relishing the moment to focus on something other than their own problems.

Julia moves into the light slowly, looking confused. "What are you—"

Barnabas shoots Julia a tiny, almost unintelligible shake of the head and she closes her mouth with an expression showing him she really knows she's interrupted something. He watches Julia's eyes direct themselves at Victoria's rigid body and waits for Vicky's reaction – though to his surprise, she simply glares at Julia, turns up her nose and stomps off, Barnabas's eyes trailing after her longingly.

_He always manages to ruin things._

First Josette, then his own mortality, and now his chances with Victoria…Why must he have to endure this never-ending torrent of suffering?

Angelique. His eyes narrow again at the thought of her. In one way or another, it's down to her, and he'll get her for it. Soon.

Julia's voice suddenly slices through his self-loathing, and he turns his attention back to her.

"Are you okay?" she asks cautiously, checking her watch. "We aren't scheduled for… an hour, yet."

"Oh…To be very honest, Julia, not really. I just came for your company… if that's alright," he says, a sad smile creeping across his lips.

She raises an eyebrow questionably, but after just a second it's plain he isn't joking. "Come in, then." She speaks slowly, and moves aside to let him in.

Barnabas enters the room smoothly and smiles as he looks the place over.

"This place has a little charm, wouldn't you agree?" he says.

"You think so?" Julia beams and shuts the door. "Nobody else really notices, you know – but I love it. I've always loved it."

"It must be nice to be able to get away from it all."

He takes a seat on a chair quietly and after a while she sits beside him.

"Okay, I'll buy it. What's eating you?" she speaks softly.

Barnabas just looks at her, confused.

"Sorry. I meant – what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Yes there is. I'm a psychiatrist; it's sort of my job to know."

He shakes his head and looks up desperately at the lamp on the ceiling. Someone once said that looking at a bright light could lessen one's lament. _Please, don't let her work out his crisis._

"Barnabas?" asks Julia, nudging him. Her eyes look genuinely worried now. He returns her gaze hopelessly, and before he can stop it, a tear slips from an eye, followed by another. He doesn't know why this happens: perhaps the emotion is just too overwhelming? Perhaps it's looking into those deep eyes of chocolate and truly seeing someone who understands him completely? Nevertheless, Julia is quick to react and immediately envelops him in a soft embrace – which he returns without hesitation.

She whispers his name soothingly into his ear, starting to stroke his hair as if he were her own son.

Strangely, he finds he doesn't mind it one bit, as tears continue to fall slowly yet non stop.

"It's okay… shh… Oh, you've had it, right? I bet it's getting too much."

Barnabas can only nod stiffly, embarrassed with himself.

After some silence, she continues. "I know. I can't remember a time where I haven't felt utterly alone in the world. Other than now, of course." He can feel her head moving to rest on his shoulder. "I feel like _nobody_ understands me. They judge me so quickly, Barnabas – it's almost unreal." Her voice has taken on a dreamy sort of tone, and her words spill out in a wave of bordering-on-desperate communication. It's like she hasn't spoken these deeper secrets to a single soul in the world. And although she hasn't spent near two hundred years locked in a box, she's certainly been mentally locked away for forty six of them, and Barnabas feels almost privilegedthat she feels so comfortable talking with someone so different. He listens to her story whole-heartedly – what does Julia really have to offer?

"I've had it all my life. Ever since I was at school – well, I guess you can imagine. Suppose you could say I was just into different things than most. The other girls liked horse-riding and ballet and whatever, I was obsessed with the human mind by eight. I never looked too cool either, and I remember these ugly grey glasses I had to wear," she laughs. "Now I look back… Jesus, they were _awful_! I was tormented beyond belief, I can tell you. But after a while – when I was about fifteen I guess – that's when I began to not care. Just fuck them all, I thought." She pulls away and looks at him in his now dryer eyes. "It's a tough one. Not caring or being different can drive some people away, but remember, Barnabas," her voice lowers. "It can also attract. You just have to make sure you choose the right way to go about it."

He ponders those words for a minute before replying, "you _are_ very wise, Julia. It isn't true, what the others say. Thank you," he says, flashing her a warm smile.

"Sure. Are you better now?"

"Yes." It's awkward again. "I'll just…um…" he stands, moves over to the white bed and begins to unbutton his shirt with his back to Julia, ready for his first treatment.

"W-what are you doing?" he hears her ask quietly.

He turns around and looks at her questioningly, seeing Julia's eyes widen and lock on the slither of white chest he has exposed already.

"…You told me needles were to be placed into my arms," he says slowly, wondering what he's done.

She frowns. "Ah… the transfusion…"

It's a while before she says anything else, and Barnabas grows a little self-conscious. Judging by her facial expression a moment ago, he had definitely done something a little problematic. Perhaps one should not have removed their shirt? But then she looks up with a fresh smile on her face, which gives him some confidence.

"No treatment today, okay?"

"Why?"

"It's a little… overwhelming, if you like. On the first try. And you've had enough of overwhelm today." she finishes.

Fair enough. "I should suppose you're right. You have already given me all I needed, after all." He walks up to the door before turning back again to add softly: "I should say, "all I _wanted_. Thank you again."

She smiles something genuine – a rare sight.

* * *

They don't talk much after that.

Living with others is a funny thing – one day you could be akin to best friends, confiding in one another easily and without a second thought, and the next you might not exchange a single word. Living with another person, who isn't a part of your family, is all too often an awkward situation in that sense. Somewhat tense, perhaps. Delicate.

But then again, saying "family" does bring up some similar connotations, does it not? For example you'd imagine seeing or thinking about your family, be it adoptive or biological, pretty well every day – so somehow, these two otherwise unrelated people are in fact related very intimately; and possibly even more so than with real relatives. It's complicated, and you feel as if you must say the right thing and _only_ the right thing, or else it will get out of hand, and emotion will begin to show through the masks of indifference people seem to wear so often these days. And emotion is often the very last thing people want to show in relationships like this. Other people have feelings? Outrageous.

So this is the case for Julia and Barnabas, and it continues for the next week or so – talk, silence, silence, talk – until a Thursday morning, completely out of the blue – there is a change.

It's his third treatment session, and Barnabas is stood alone at Julia's door, clearing his throat a little before edging in slowly.

Julia has her back to him, sitting on the chair in the middle of the room with a half empty glass of red wine balancing within the fingers of her right hand. He doesn't need to speak; she has heard his footsteps and twists herself to face him, smiling. She waves her hand towards the bed and looks at him expectantly.

"Sit, then," she says sharply.

Bad mood? He puts it down to the glass in her hand and doesn't question it further. "I do hope you haven't had too much of that bottle," he glances over to the great thing on the counter, though relaxes again after noticing that only a little has been poured out.

"Nah, only one." Julia gets up and puts her glass next to the bottle after taking a quick sip. "Was I rude? Sorry."

He smiles. "No. Do not worry yourself."

She returns his grin and begins to set up the equipment, which takes a couple of minutes. Barnabas sits on the bed and rolls the sleeves of his shirt up, his pallid skin almost completely blending in with the white sheets. He tenses as Julia slides the needles into his muscle, wincing as what feel like knives of sheer ice pierce through his skin. He squints into Julia's sympathetic eyes.

"You'll get used to it in time," she smiles. Rising again slowly to turn on the machine, she adds, "Though I have to tell you this still might not work. It isn't exactly the kind of thing they teach you in medical school."

_Click._

The whirr of pipes and a faint movement in his arms tells him everything is working properly, and he feels more at ease. "You must have faith, Doctor," he says, "for if a man can become a monster, then a monster can become a man."  
She faces him. "But why become a man, Barnabas. Why give up the gift of eternal youth? I mean, look at me – every year I get half as pretty and twice as drunk."

"If that is true, Madam, then you must have started as the most beautiful creature to have ever lived." He slows down his speech as he realises what he has just said. _Why did he say that? _Of course it's in his nature to give compliments… but _that_… He is lost in thought for a second, but not so lost that he doesn't hear Julia's tiny gasp from the corner of the room.

Julia takes off her glasses slowly and one corner of her lip moves upwards a little; in both shock and happiness. _Did he mean that? _

Turning around again, she almost whispers. "Uh… Barnabas, are you aware of the…_ concept_ of doctor patient confidentiality?" She's going to do it.

He does have some idea, but still. "No. Perhaps you will be kind enough to enlighten me?"

"All right." Julia replies simply. Her eyes don't break contact with his, searching him, while she sinks to her knees. She shuffles a little until she's comfortable.

What is she doing? He watches her small hands push his knees apart slowly and begins to open his mouth to protest, until she silences him with the gentle undoing of his own trousers. She doesn't look up.

Julia takes a deep breath, trying to get rid of the butterflies in her stomach. She needs all her wits about her; she supposes that after almost two hundred years one would have needs, and she is about to give him long awaited release from those. It has to be the best, or else she needn't even try. Trousers unbuttoned, she pulls out his lengthy member with her left hand and smiles, for he won't have had anything like this in a very long time.

Barnabas's eyes have been unnaturally wide for a while now. But he doesn't resist, as the mere soft touch of her fingers was enough to make his arousal show. She begins to work on him with such dexterity, and it becomes evident that this isn't her first time – he's literally in good hands, so forgets everything else and lets Julia immerse him in something spectacular.

She takes him fully into her mouth and moves her head up and down rhythmically, drawing out the occasional soft grunt from his lips. He has a peculiar taste; not unpleasant at all, it's cool yet warm at the same time… Is that possible? Closing her eyes, she shifts a little to focus more on his swollen tip, flicking her tongue around him. Her mouth parts with him momentarily, and his hips jerk forwards to meet her lips once more; but she swaps to her hands again. _Hold on for a little longer, my love._ Julia varies the speed of her hand, and his grunts steadily turn into hoarse moans as she continues to rub, faster and faster – he must be close now… Julia persists in glee until he reaches his climax; with which he leans his head slowly backwards with something close to a shout, ("_Julia!_") and his seed carries on seeping through her shaking fingers, which she downs within a matter of seconds.

There's silence in the room now for a while. Barnabas is sat on the bed catching his breath while Julia is still on the floor wiping her mouth, hardly believing herself what has just happened.

"Well, I…" he clears his throat to speak. He says anything, anything to break this tension. "…I suppose you're… practiced in this concept?"

Julia shrugs. "Not really, actually. I guess I had a thing or two back in the fifties but, uh… that's a different story. A different me." She looks at the floor.

"Nevertheless, Julia," he smiles wryly. "That was…" he shakes his head and looks at her in awe, to which she can't help but smile shyly back.

* * *

Barnabas gone, Julia is sat by the window, exhaling the smoke of her third cigarette and thinking deeply upon the day. She didn't know what had made her do that to Barnabas, what had made her so fearless – all she knows is that she is so glad she did.

She hadn't wanted anything in return; all she'd wanted was to make him happy.

_It must be love_, she thinks. It must be love, as she'd read somewhere that while plain lust was only the desire to _get_, love was instead the desire to _give_. And this is an answer she has wanted to know ever since she first laid eyes upon the vampire. But does he see it? Could he ever love her?

_ Does he? _

* * *

_ Does he? _No… Victoria…

Barnabas clicks his coffin door shut and can do nothing but confirm - something extraordinary has happened to him.

* * *

Next chapter coming soon! Thinking of making it something to do with Angelique, but let me know what you think.

And I just want to say I feel like I owe these people so much because I was so alone* and might not have been able to write a single thing if it wasn't for their writing.

** Inspirations: **Doctor Patient Confidentiality by **AngelofDeathXx**, A Secret Unrevealed by **bellatrixlestranable**, (which I enjoyed so much I hadn't thought about that pairing and I guess I kind of like it a lot) A Room With A View by **E.M. Forster** who you won't find on here (That's where I stole the last line from, sorry about that, E.)

Of course, all the speech leading up to the doctor/patient bit isn't mine it's _all_ from the film, I own nothing but the writing because I'm not original lalalala

Ideas always welcome (a.k.a PLEASE) and thank you so much for the nice reviews they're what keep me posting! I think I like this chapter the most so far. I've really enjoyed writing it.

See you all soon xxxxxxxxx

*Johnlock forever.

* * *

**oh um hello. yes i realise i haven't been around since, like, january. geeeeez. i promise i have NOT abandoned this story! i'm constantly thinking about it every time i go on tumblr and stuff and feel so bad i haven't updated. i am just beyond terrible at thinking up plots and haven't had one good idea for months! i feel really bad, but i want you all to know that i do think about this all the time and i am sure something might come along when i least expect it. (maybe during summer?!) thank you so much for the continued reviews and support! it means a lot. :)))))**

**26th june '13 xo**


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